silence
by tdei
Summary: GraviIniDFoR crossover, but the main character is Suguru so in here it goes. Basically hooking up Suguru and Koganei... .DISCONTINUED.
1. Line 01: Unheard

-Disclaimer: Flame of Recca, Gravitation, and Initial D belong to their respective artists. The storyline, character interaction/pairing, and Suguru's history are my creation though. ^-^  
  
-Genre/Story type: Shonen-ai/Angst, philosophic, angst, serious, angst (does anyone see a pattern? ^^;)  
  
-Series: Flame of Recca, Gravitation, Initial D  
  
-Warnings: Contains spoilers for character histories in FoR and general spoilers for events in FoR, IniD, and Gravitation. This fic is shonen-ai, guy x guy love. Rating's probably PG-14? However, if you think you're mature enough to handle the reading, go for it. ^^ Oh... and if you think the characterization is slightly OOC for IniD, I have only seen Stage One and Two of the anime. ^^  
  
-Author's Comments: Hi, everyone. ^^ This is my answer to Dandybell's request for Suguru fics... The story takes place right after track 28 in volume 7 in Gravitation, right after the end of volume 16 in Flame of Recca, and around the time Takumi finally races Wataru in the last two episodes of Stage 2 in the Initial D anime. Umm... if I think about it, this might be classified as "shotakon" since Koganei is only 13. But shota, for me, is sexual stuff with kids under 12. So, I'm not classifying this as shota. ^^; Line 03 was heavily influenced by, if not based off of, the novel, "The Chosen," written by Chaim Potok. The song mentioned in Line 04 was similarly inspired from listening to "the Matrix" CD. ^^;; I hope you enjoy the short fic. =P C&C appreciated, please do not post this fic anywhere without my permission. ^^;  
  
-Thank yous: My gratefulness to Cris, Toni, and Dandybell for putting up with my whining, b*tching, and overall tantrums over the fic. They kicked my butt into continuing to work on it. ^^ I'd also like to expression my gratitude to Hase-san (ESPECIALLY Hase-san! THANKYOU!!), Kourin-san, and several other members from the Yaoi D ML who have helpfully given me a clue about some aspects of locations and driving stuff.   
  
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:: s i l e n c e ::  
  
  
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Line 01: Unheard  
  
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His bulging equipment case fell to the ground with a dull clunk.   
  
Tiredly blinking dark brown eyes, Suguru slowly bent to retrieve his case. It had been a long day. An extremely long and exhausting day. Wearily shouldering his case, he lightly massaged his throbbing temples with his free hand.   
  
It went without saying that to excel one must overcome difficulties the normal person would refuse to undertake. However, Bad Luck was ridiculous. It simply followed no rules; it was utter chaos. He was barely able to follow Shindou and Nakano's actions, much less comprehend the thinking that motivated them. In short, Bad Luck was the exception that proved the rule.   
  
Letting his hand drop with a sigh, Suguru furrowed his brow and tiredly staggered on. He could complain all he wanted, but his position wasn't going to change. He was a descendent of the Seguchi family and they were gluttons for punishment. They had a drive like no other to excel. He would endure the chaos that was Bad Luck if only to show Tohma that his will was just as strong as his cousin's was.   
  
"Brat."  
  
It took Suguru a second to realize that the low, drunken slur was directed at him. Coming out of his contemplative trance, Suguru suddenly realized that he had wandered into one of the less used and darker walkways toward his apartment. Mentally biting back a curse and controlling the sinking feeling in the pit of his stomach, he stopped his steps and turned to face the person that had addressed him.   
  
"Awfully late for a snotty brat like you to be wanderin' 'round so late," cackled the hulking drunkard. Suguru swallowed hard. The man had to be at least 6' 3, over a head taller than him. Despite the stained, ragged, and worn condition of his clothes, the older man was powerfully built. The flicking, dim light from the only streetlight on the long stretch of road cast dark, eerie shadows across the thug-like man's sharp and angled face. The stench of beer and whiskey reeked like a disgusting mist of vomit from the man's skin.  
  
Carefully considering his words, Suguru answered politely, "It is. I'm going home right now." His grip tightened on his case. Maybe he can extricate himself from this situation without...  
  
He was slammed up and against the wall before he could blink. "I bet you are," snarled the voice hatefully. "Little prick!" Suguru gasped out a soundless yelp of pain. The fingers of his fine-boned hands spasmed and relaxed involuntarily. "Only sluts walk out this late, you prissy piece of shit!"  
  
Suguru's equipment case cracked against the cement floor.  
  
"Whores shouldn't act so high and mighty like you do," the man leered, breathing rotten breath onto Suguru's gagging face. A thick, meaty hand encircled Suguru's neck and slammed the synthesizer player's head violently against unyielding brick. "I'll teach you a lesson, slut." Exhaustion prevented Suguru from reacting.  
  
As Suguru's vision faded in and out, he felt his black vinyl pants being clumsily worked at, roughly yanked down his slim hips. He felt panic, but he couldn't breathe. All his senses blurred. Fat, moist lips forced themselves over his, biting down, bruising. He couldn't breathe. Suguru felt his body impact heavily on the floor as the man threw him down, kicking open his legs, and straddled him. A faint, luminous glow of white shone in a crescent shape on his equipment case nearby and it expanded in his fading vision.  
  
He couldn't breathe.   
  
"Hey!" shouted a light, melodious, distant voice. "What the hell are you doing--"  
  
Suguru blacked out.   
  
  
  
"You're finally awake," stated a smooth, cool voice.  
  
Darkness. Light. Consciousness.   
  
Dazedly blinking open his eyes, Suguru tried to sit up. He cringed at the stabbing lances of pain that vibrated through his muscles and flopped back on the sheets he had been lying on. Curling on his side, Suguru tried to regather his composure. "Where...?" he rasped hoarsely.  
  
"For some reason, my apartment," answered the clinical voice dryly.   
  
Suguru tried to piece his thoughts together. Yesterday, he was to be officially made part of Bad Luck due to Nakano's withdrawal... Shindou had bungled that up, announcing that utterly worthless reason for wanting Nakano back in the band... Nakano had actually accepted that reason and returned... walking home tired... mugged...   
  
Suguru's eyes widened. Minding his sore muscles, he carefully sat up and rubbed at his eyes. Mugged... then what? A voice... The first thing Suguru registered as his vision slowly cleared was the silent rays of gold sunlight streaming through a large, glass door. They lit the neutral whites, cool blues, and midnight blacks of the sparsely decorated room.   
  
"If you're okay, I'd like you to leave as soon as possible, please." Suguru turned toward the voice and was seized by arctic, cerulean eyes that froze the blood in his veins. The young man seated in a chair near his bed was in his late teens, but his eyes... they belied his youthful appearance with the coldness, jadedness, and maturity within them. Though dressed casually in a black, long-sleeved turtleneck and pale blue jeans, the teen excluded an air of deadly strength. The teen tilted his head and warm, gold light glinted off his flowing, long, silver hair. Suguru drew in a quiet breath. The teen was definitely beautiful.   
  
"How long was I out?" Suguru finally asked. He seemed to be in one piece and nothing was out of order. If he had been further physically assaulted, he could not remember. As he didn't want to know if he had been, he did not ask.   
The teen closed his eyes briefly in slight exasperation and sighed. "Ten hours. Other than bruises and a near concussion, you're fine."  
  
Suguru digested the other's words slowly. (Good, I haven't missed the scheduled radio program for Bad Luck this evening...) "Thanks," he said, bowing slightly from his waist. "I'm Suguru Fujisaki. I assume you were the one who helped me...? Thank you very much."  
  
"All I did was store you in my apartment," said the teen curtly. "If you want to thank someone, thank Koganei. He was the one who brought you here." Rising with fluid grace, the tall teen exited into a different room. Suguru heard the sound of running water. A moment later, the silver-haired teen returned, carrying a glass of water, which he offered to Suguru.   
  
"I'm Tokiya Mikagami," the teen finally introduced.  
  
Accepting the glass, Suguru gingerly sipped the cool water. From the way his throat ached, he guessed that he would have bruises forming there. Already, on his arms, where the man had grabbed him as he slammed him against the wall, ugly blue and green bruises marred his pale skin. He would have to conceal them with long sleeved clothing for a while. "Koganei...?" Suguru asked.  
  
"My friend," answered Tokiya, leaning against the wall. "We and a few other friends just came back from a trip. He was looking around for a place to stay when he ran into your mugging."  
  
"A... Aa. I see..." Suguru replied hesitantly, holding his glass between his hands. "By any chance, did he get my case...?"  
  
Tokiya jerked a thumb towards another room beyond Suguru's range of sight. "It's over there." Suguru breathed a sigh of relief, a chunk of tension falling from his shoulders. Raising his glass, Suguru finished drinking the water and carefully set the empty glass on a nightstand next to the bed. Testing his steadiness, he slowly slid out of bed and waveringly stood. Sure of his ability to stand unaided, Suguru nodded again to Tokiya in gratitude.   
  
"Could you please give Koganei-san my thanks and gratitude for his help?" he asked softly. "I regret not being able to tell him in person, but it is unlikely..."  
  
"That is true," Tokiya acknowledged. "You can get back on your own?"  
  
"Yes, thank you, Mikagami-san. Could you please show me to the door?"  
  
Tokiya moved. "Of course." He strode out of the room and Suguru followed him. Evidently, Tokiya had placed him in his bedroom. The room connected to the bedroom was fairly large, being the combination of a living room and a kitchen. His equipment case sat on a low, oaken table in the living room, next to several sofas and beanbags. Tokiya picked it up easily with one hand and helpfully offered it to Suguru. Suguru took a moment to straighten his rumpled clothing and accepted his case with little difficulty. "Thank you."  
  
Tokiya silently nodded and walked to the front door. "I will tell Koganei when I see him," he said.   
  
"I really appreciate all your help..." Suguru bowed once more, located his shoes at the entrance, and walked out the door.  
  
Cool, crystalline eyes watching his retreating figure. Tokiya sighed.  
  
"Knowing Koganei's nature, I'll probably see you again."  
  
  
  
Suguru refused to believe that Bad Luck was hopeless. It was salvageable. It... was so doomed that it wasn't even funny. He bit back a groan and restrained himself from hitting his head against a nearby wall. It might straighten out the chaos waltzing around in his brain, but the impact would undoubtedly cause him to lose more brain cells. He couldn't afford to lose brain cells if he was going to associate with Shindou... he needed every single nuance of thinking ability he possessed to retain some sort of order to the band's working process. Suguru sighed.  
  
Who was he kidding?   
  
However, he hoped the insane craziness that overtook his two co-workers tonight was really induced by exhaustion. He wasn't sure if he could handle it if it was their normal disposition. He doubted if even Tohma could handle Shindou's daily antics. Suguru's head throbbed.  
  
Wincing, he stopped in his steps and breathed. He needed some rest. He still hadn't recovered from his attempted mugging yesterday night. It was just as well Shindou and Nakano were preoccupied this evening. They had utterly failed to notice the bruises rapidly forming on his throat, for which he was grateful. Shindou's natural ability to draw people's attention onto himself helped him in this case, for none of the other people present at the broadcast had commented on the state of his alertness and voice either. He had drunk some tonics and applied ice to his throat, but his efforts couldn't completely mask the hoarseness that laced his voice.   
  
With a mild grimace, Suguru straightened, tucking his bag more securely under his arm and started to walk again. It was only a few more blocks to his apartment. This time, he picked one of the more public and well-lit roads. With luck, he would be able to get home and sleep for a lengthy amount of time... A group of shadows emerging from an alleyway caught his eye.  
  
A scowling teen with multiple piercings, wearing clothes that screamed "Outta my way or die, guttertrash!", moodily stalked forward, obviously looking for a fight. Three other young men followed him, obviously just as eager to find a target. The leader turned and looked directly at him.   
  
"Hey, PUNK."  
  
Suguru mentally threw up his hands. He was having an exceedingly bad slump in luck lately. He blinked his eyes as he registered the curving red tattoo on the gangster's arm. It was the mark of a member of the Bakux gang.  
  
(Oh shit.)  
  
  
  
"Etou~ saa~~" a slim brunette scratched his head meditatively. "I don't think there's any open places I can afford," he sighed. "Damn. Oh well, Recca-niichan said I could stay with him, didn't he? No biggie."  
  
Thumping a large, cloth-covered object on the ground, the young teen leaned against the bundle for a moment, relaxing. He looked at his surroundings. "Hey, this is the area near where I found that 'niichan being attacked yesterday. I wonder if he is okay... Had to leave him with Mikagami-niichan last night since I didn't have anywhere nearby to put him, but Mikagami-niichan is pretty nice even though he acts cold all the time." His ears perked up as a series of faint scuffling noises sounded nearby.  
  
He turned his head.   
  
"Eh?"  
  
  
  
Somewhat prepared this time, Suguru attempted to mount some form of defense, but in the end, the group cornered him. Scratched, scraped, and a little cut, one of the Bakux members was carrying a knife, Suguru was no more worse for the wear, but he knew that was going to change unless he got away soon.   
  
"Alright, you sonnvabitch," growled the leader, cracking his knuckles. "Show me what puny fuckface balls you're made of."  
  
Desperately still trying to find a way to step out of the one-way slaughter, Suguru braced himself for the oncoming blow and closed his eyes.  
  
There came a chain of thumps, wheezes, and thuds, but Suguru felt no impact. Unable to contain his anxious curiosity, Suguru cracked open his eyes.  
  
A teen, younger than him, was leaning back against a bundled object taller than the teen himself and whistling. The teen blinked bright gold-brown eyes at him and grinned wryly. "Man, oh man... do you always attract trouble like this, 'niichan? A bit dangerous to walk around alone if you do."  
  
Adroitly twirling the bundled object over his shoulder, the kid strode forward, ignoring the moaning, crumpled gangsters twitching on the ground around him. "Hiya!" the brunette cheerfully greeted. "I didn't get to talk to you last time. Nice to see you again!"  
  
"You..." Suguru finally managed to get out, still stunned.   
  
"Me?" The kid blinked cutely, pointing a finger at himself. He smiled, large, feline eyes turning up in smiling crescents.  
  
"I'm Kaoru Koganei."  
  
  
  
  
:: end Line 01 :: 


	2. Line 02: Unseen [prev]

Well... hi guys. ^^ Thank you to Anikishi-san, Draconic Ice-san, and Isshi-san for commenting. ^^ With your comments I realized that people really are interested in reading the fic. I was inspired to keep posting on Fanfiction.net since people would enjoy the story. ^.^ However, I'm sorry to say I do not have a lot of time to work on writing (plus I write REALLY slow) and that's why I take so long.   
  
As you might notice, this chapter says "preview." Normally, I wouldn't just stick a chunk out like this, sort of draft-ish and incomplete, BUT... I just read "an Honest Reader"'s comment. After a few minutes, I managed to stop myself from cracking up (sorry, it was just so... *coff* BWAHAHA- HAHA _hits herself to stop giggling_) and I decided to post what I have now up. Whoever "an Honest Reader" is, I have one thing to say: Good writers can cross over ANYTHING and make it look GREAT. D I'm far, far, faaaaar from the best, but I can't help feeling mildly insulted that you would say that without waiting for me to finish the rest (silence is 4 parts btw).  
  
But, hey. ^^ Since you say it'd never work, I'll just take my time with posting on Fanfiction.net and stop writing this whenever. ;9 Anyway, I felt like I must prove a point. Bad, bad, baaaad reason to post. ___ I'll go away now.   
  
Btw, I spent FOREVER trying to update this piece of junk! After trying to upload 6 times, I realized that it was too big for one chapter. So I had to cut it up. #-_- And then I had to cut it up into more piece to upload and that took a lot of tries too. Grr... I don't want it all segmented like this! T_T _tries several more times_ Oh. I just realized it won't upload correctly no matter how short I chop it up. SO. I'll just split it in several parts and leave it. #-_- Sorry about the cutoffs. But it's not my fault-- Wait. AHHA! And 4 hours later, I find out what's wrong. Oh well. At least it works now. #-_-  
  
  
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Line 02: Unseen  
  
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"It's great to metcha, 'niichan!" Kaoru grinned. "How are you feeling?"  
  
"Ko... Koganei-san?" Suguru faintly murmured out, knees slowly folding underneath him. The world swam in and out of focus as his adrenaline level dropped. His headache re-registered with a vengeance, evolving into a painful migraine.  
  
"Eeh, 'ni..." The younger boy hastily darted over to him. "'Niichan? You okay? You don't look so good." A pair of burnished topaz eyes hovered worriedly over him.   
  
"I'm fine, Koganei-san," Suguru heard himself vaguely say. "Thank you."  
  
Kaoru sweatdropped. "Oi, oi. If you hurt, say so! Don't be such a hardass like Mikagami-niichan." A slender, sturdy hand briefly pressed against Suguru's forehead. "GAAH!!!" Kaoru yelped, jerking his hand away. "Shit! Feels like I put my hand on a stove!"  
  
"So... sorry," murmured Suguru apologetically.   
  
Kaoru's breath whooshed out in a sigh of exasperation. "What the hell for, 'niichan? For bein' sick? That's a stupid thing to be sorry for."   
  
"A... aa." Suguru attempted to stand. He failed miserably. A pair of strong hands caught him before he thumped back on the ground.  
  
"Where do ya live, 'niichan?" Kaoru chirped, slinging one of Suguru's arms over his shoulders. He carefully shifted his bundle to his free arm. "You can't make it home alone in this sorry state."  
  
"You don't have to help me," Suguru whispered quietly, staggering up with Kaoru's help. He held a hand over his eyes, grimacing in pain.   
  
"Oi, I _want_ to help ya, 'niichan," grinned Kaoru impishly.   
  
"Eh?" Suguru looked down at Koganei in surprise. "You want to..."  
  
"Helped ya the last two times, didn't I?" Kaoru beamed at him, holding up Suguru's bag to him. "I like helpin' people."   
  
Suguru blinked at his black bag. (When did Koganei pick that up?) he wondered distantly. "Thank you, Koganei-san," he said softly, taking the bag with his free hand. He pulled his supported arm away from Koganei's shoulders. "I can walk by myself," he interjected, waving off Koganei's protest. He hesitated. "I... I would appreciate it if you'd walk me home," he said faintly, flushing with embarrassment. (I don't care how I'm going to do it; I am SO getting a license within the next few days,) he swore. "If... if it wouldn't inconvenience you."  
  
"Nah, I ain't doing anything special," smiled Kaoru cheerfully.  
  
Suguru looked at him again. Koganei was around a head or so shorter than him... definitely less than a foot. He was wearing a pastel, mauve vest that accented his black, baggy shorts and white T-shirt. A gold chain necklace, adorned with a simple gold cross hung loosely from his neck, shining in the bright streetlights. He looked too young to be walking around by himself so late at night--  
  
"Oi, 'niichan," interrupted Kaoru. His large, feline, gold-brown eyes flickered a glance at him from underneath a fringe of spiky, soft-brown hair. "I know you might not be feelin' too well, but we should get outta here before these idiots wake up." He waved a hand at the still forms of the sprawled gang members. Kaoru tilted his elfin face to one side. "I could beat them up again, but it'd be a waste of time."   
  
Suguru looked at him with startled chocolate eyes. "You're really good at fighting," he remarked with a smile on his lips. "I'm sorry for the trouble... My apartment is this way."   
  
As he started walking, Suguru's thoughts briefly turned to Bad Luck and Eiri Yuki. He shook his head carefully. He wasn't too worried. Tohma cared for Yuki. That was practically a guarantee from god that Yuki would be all right. Shindou and Nakano should know that by now...  
  
Kaoru stared at Suguru's moving form for a moment before shaking free of   
  
his trance.   
  
"No problem at all, 'niichan," he said in a soft whisper.   
  
  
  
A long-haired guitarist rubbed his smaller friend's bare back comfortingly. "Don't worry, Shuichi, it'll be okay."  
  
Sniffling, the redhead nodded. "Aa." Hiroshi felt the movement against his neck and correctly interpreted it. He shifted on his couch.   
  
"Try to get some sleep, hmm?" Hiroshi coaxed. "Okay, Shuichi?" No response. "Shuichi?" Hiroshi sweatdropped. Damnit, his friend could fall asleep anywhere, anytime, within the span of seconds.   
  
Sighing, he got himself comfortable. Sometimes he wished he had a harder heart, maybe then he could just pry Shuichi off of him and go to bed. Sadly, he was somewhat of a pushover. He HAD planned to be a doctor after all. He wanted to help people. And man, oh man, did Shuichi need help.  
  
Idly, he wondered where Suguru was and what he was doing. After Shuichi broke down into a wreck over Yuki's phone call, they had decided to stop by the hospital where Yuki was staying. Suguru declined the visit, pleading a headache. He had looked very pale and exhausted.   
  
Suguru was a nice kid; Hiroshi hoped he was all right.   
  
  
  
"Ouchh," hissed Suguru, involuntarily flinching back. Kaoru paused in dabbing the peroxide into Suguru's bleeding cuts.   
  
"Almost over, 'niisan," soothed Kaoru. "Hang in there, 'kay?" He grinned from his straddled position on his chair and continued to clean up Suguru's scrapes.  
  
Suguru smiled wryly. His crisp, jungle-green bed sheets wrinkled into flowing lines around his weight on the bed. "Yeah." He winced. God, he needed painkillers. Where did he stock his aspirin again? "Thank you, Koganei-san."   
  
"Damnit, 'niichan, lay off the 'san,'" pouted Kaoru. "Makes me feel OLD. 'm just a kid." He tossed several swabs of used, red-stained cotton into the metal wastebasket next to the bed. It had been next to a desk, but Kaoru dragged it over.   
  
Suguru quirked a grin. "Sorry. It's only polite though," he chided. "I hope you will overlook the form of address?" His limbs felt heavy and a bit numb.   
  
Kaoru heaved a sigh, plastering the last of the more ugly scrapes with bandages. "Okay, okay. If it makes you happy, then go ahead. There!"  
  
"Thank you very much," Suguru said gratefully. "I don't think I would have been up to doing it by myself... And even kids deserve respect, ne?" Suguru cautiously flexed his bandaged arm.  
  
"Heh. Not at all like Genjiro's thinking," mused Kaoru.  
  
"Who?"  
  
"Ah, no one. Just an old acquaintance. Hey, are those bruises from yesterday, 'niichan?" Kaoru gingerly indicated the marks along his forearms.   
  
"Aa." Suguru started to stand. The painkillers were in a cabinet in the kitchen.   
  
Kaoru winced at Suguru's confirmation. "Nasty... oi, what are you doing? Sit down!" He pushed Suguru back down onto the bed. Suguru cringed at the jagged bolts of pain clawing in his brain. Multi-colored lights danced around in his vision. He folded over, gasping harshly.   
  
"Yeesh, you can barely stand. Keep moving and you're gonna pass out on me," lectured Kaoru. The patronizing look on his youthful face would have been funny if Suguru were in a position to appreciate it.   
  
"Sorry," Suguru managed to say. "I..."  
  
Kaoru groaned, burying his face in his hands. "'Niichan, you don't hafta to be sorry for anything!! Cut it out!" Kaoru mumbled. He looked up, eyes bright and inquisitive. "What did you want to get? Tell me and I'll get it for you."   
  
Suguru flopped weakly onto his bed's covers. "Aspirin," he rasped faintly. "Painkillers. My head is killing me..."  
  
Kaoru sweatdropped. He patted Suguru gently on the arm. (From what his forehead felt like a while ago...) "Where?"  
  
"Kitchen, furthest left cabinet under the counter. There should be a box of medication," Suguru said softly, massaging his temples. "There's cold water, chilled coffee, and soda in the refrigerator if you want anything to drink. I'm sorry I'm being such a bad--" A hand clamped over his mouth.   
  
Eyes back in smiling crescents, Kaoru grinned a bit irritably at Suguru. "Shut up, 'niichan. You keep apologizing... dang." He stood up. "Hang on, I'll be right back, ne?" He winked at Suguru and toddled off. Suguru watched him leave before lying back. The ceiling spun and his body felt like it was twirling around in dizzying circles.   
  
Suguru felt nauseous.   
  
"Holy... this is a LOT of medication, 'niichan!" echoed Kaoru's light voice. "Why do you have so many pills in here?" Suguru's medication kit was _extremely_ well stocked.   
  
Suguru choked back a laugh. If Koganei knew Shindou, he wouldn't be asking that question. His doctor was utterly floored by the rate his stress levels had risen when he joined up with Bad Luck.   
  
Yuki actually lived with Shindou under one roof. Suguru _knew_ that Yuki would end up in the hospital sooner or later. Tonight's phone call about Yuki's condition did not shock him. How Nakano managed to hang with Shindou all of the time was a complete mystery to him. Suguru was positive the man was a little inhuman.   
  
Suguru started as an opened bottle of water abruptly appeared in his range of vision. "Here, 'niichan," Kaoru said, setting the medication kit beside him on the bed. Suguru mentally shook his head. He must be really out of it to not have noticed Koganei's light footsteps approaching him. "So, where's the aspirin in this thing?" Kaoru inquired, opening the kit's lid. He seated himself next to Suguru on the bed.  
  
Suguru coughed slightly in embarrassment. "Could," his voice faltered. "Could you help me up?" He flushed. Kaoru blinked at him.  
  
"Sure!" He stopped rummaging through the kit's contents and offered Suguru a hand. The one not holding the still unclaimed bottle of water. Suguru grasped it and Kaoru pulled him up into a sitting position. Suguru blinked, trying to straighten out the swirling motes of light dancing in his vision.   
  
"You're really strong, Koganei-san," he said softly, taking the bottle of water from him. He moved closer to Koganei and the medication kit, peering down. Skillfully pushing aside various boxes inside the med kit, Suguru picked out the small, orange canister of aspirin. Suguru set the water bottle between his thighs as he unscrewed the lid of the canister and dumped two tablets into his palm. Quickly capping the canister again, he pitched the pills into his mouth and picked up the water bottle. He drained it in a matter of seconds, swallowing quickly. Kaoru watched him.  
  
"You look like you have a lot of practice with this sorta thing, 'niichan," commented Kaoru quietly. "Aren't taking meds a lot bad for your health?"  
  
"Mmm?" Suguru was putting the aspirin back into the med kit. He set the med kit, along with the nearly empty water bottle, down on the floor. "Well, not really if you need it, I think."   
  
"I see..." Kaoru commented quietly. "Why'd you need it that often, 'niichan?" The teen didn't look very stressed. In fact, he appeared quite calm and reminded Kaoru of Mikagami, in a softer way.   
  
Suguru scooted further back on his bed. "You'll have to see it to believe it," he murmured, shaking his head. He leaned against the wall with a sigh of relieved pleasure.   
  
"See what?" prompted Kaoru curiously, swinging his legs. Bright gold-brown eyes flickered around Suguru's room. Kaoru's attention had been focused solely on Suguru since entering Suguru's apartment, but now that Suguru was finally patched up...  
  
"My associates. I'm a musician," Suguru smiled faintly, opening his eyes and turning to look at Kaoru. "Or did all the equipment in my room, including the synthesizer and piano, not mean a thing to you?"  
  
"Eheh heh heh," Kaoru sheepishly scratched the back of his head. He just noticed the aforementioned items, as well as the wires and trio of computers arranged at one end of Suguru's room. "Musician, huh?" His eyes shone with interest. "What do you do? What's so bad about your associates?"   
  
"I basically arrange accompanying music at the moment," explained Suguru. "I'm the synthesizer player for a band. My band members, well..." Suguru did an odd motion that was a cross between a grimace of pain and a defeated slump of his shoulders.   
  
"'niichan, you okay?" asked Kaoru in alarm. "The painkillers don't work?"  
"No, no. They work. My head feels better already," assured Suguru. He raked a hand through his hair. "Shindou-san and Nakano-san... how do I say it? Those are my associates' names. Well, truthfully, Nakano-san is quite wonderful to work with. Shindou-san... is unique. I get headaches working with him." Suguru was vaguely aware he was babbling, but ignored the implications. After all, Koganei had nothing to do with NG, so it was somewhat safe to speak freely in front of him. Plus, he was too tired to care at the moment.   
  
"Unique, 'niichan?"  
  
"He's confusing. Sometimes I think he's the unholiest of monsters one moment, a naive angel the next. Sometimes he seems so mature, but most of the time, he acts like a spoiled brat. I would like to hate him, but he's still likable." Suguru sighed. "He is extremely confusing. Not to mention I don't understand two-thirds of the things he does."  
  
"He~eh." Kaoru cocked his head at Suguru, arms wrapping around his drawn up legs. He grinned impishly. "'niichan, you don't like crazy, messy things, do you?"   
  
"Is it that obvious?" Suguru asked dryly. He tilted his hips up and leaned forward. The ache in his head had muted to a quiet throb. With his pain alleviated, Suguru's weariness rose to the fore and demanded to be sated.   
  
Bouncing off the bed, Kaoru scampered over to the large desk next to Suguru's synthesizer. He picked up a few sheets from the piles scattered around on the table. "Is it 'cause of music?" he asked.   
  
"Pardon?" asked Suguru, startled. He sleepily rubbed at his eyes.   
  
"'cause in music you follow a lot of rules to play it right?" elaborated Kaoru, intently examining the shelf of papers in his hand. "So you're used to rules to make something make sense, right?" Kaoru looked up at Suguru's astonished face and grinned. "'niichan, you gotta learn that breaking the 'rules' is what revolutionizes stuff. If you do something outrageous enough, no one's going to stop you 'cause they'll be too surprised." He winked.   
  
Suguru's jaw dropped. _Here_ was the simple explanation he had been slaving to find for weeks. The question of why Shindou's craziness was so popular had been a burning, ghost-like brand in his head. Slowly absorbing the full implications of Koganei's statement, Suguru's eyes widened. Could it be that Shindou _knew_ this theory and therefore applied it to his actions _purposely_?  
  
"Hey, 'niichan, what do these mean?" asked Kaoru, interrupting Suguru's thoughts. He pointed at the string of notes.  
  
Suguru dismissed his thoughts and looked at the string of notes Koganei indicated. "You mean that D minor arrangement?" he asked, studying the chord arrangement.   
  
"Erm." Kaoru sweatdropped. "Nope, I mean the squiggly black blobs on the paper." Suguru facefaulted.   
  
"You've never played an instrument, Koganei-san?" Suguru stood and padded over to Koganei. Suguru pointed a slender finger to a middle C note and pressed the corresponding key on his synthesizer. "Those blobs are called 'notes.' They tell you which keys on my instrument you press. The one I just played is the middle C. It's basically the starting point where music is written around. We can switch to different octaves, that's sets of eight keys..." Suguru explained. Kaoru nodded, soaking up the information.   
  
"Wow," he said at last, after another fifteen minutes of explanations. "Lotsa rules, like I thought. This thing isn't finished though, is it 'niichan?"   
  
Suguru nodded, surprised at Koganei's lack of questions. "It's a personal piece I've been trying to write. However, I can't seem to figure out the chording over here..." He made a vague motion at the score. "It's frustrating. It'd be finished after I figure that part out."   
  
"Play it for me?"  
  
"Eh?"  
  
"I'd like to hear it," grinned Kaoru. "Please?" (Neon never played her flute for fun... it'd be nice to hear music that won't kill you if you hear it.)  
  
"S... sure." Suguru shuffled the handwritten score and let them drop back onto the table. He leaned over his synthesizer and turned it on.  
  
"You don't need your score, 'niichan?"  
  
"I have a good memory," smiled Suguru. "When it comes to music at least." His eyes shifted over the keyboards and his expression straightened. He exhaled and his fingers flickered over the keys, filling the room with cascading sound.   
  
Kaoru's eyes nearly popped out of his head.   
  
Suguru's music was nothing like Neon's music. Though eloquent in its own way, Neon's melodies were nowhere as complex, detailed, or touching as the endless stream of pure sound currently threading through the air with sinuous ease.   
  
"...wow..." Kaoru whispered in awe. Suguru, lost in the music he was playing, did not hear him.   
  
As Suguru continued to play, tones spiraling in a dizzying descent of blended beauty, Kaoru's eyes suddenly narrowed. (There. I think I've got it.) He grinned and waited for Suguru to finish.   
  
As the last strains of angelic melodies soared through the air, Kaoru enthusiastically applauded. "That was totally awesome, 'niichan!" Kaoru whistled, admiring. "So that's what a musician's suppose to be like!"   
  
Suguru shook himself, coming out of his playing trance. "Eh? A... Aa. Thank you, Koganei-san." He wiped some sweat from his forehead and shifted his hands into a few stretches to prevent them from stiffening up.   
  
"So, 'niichan," spoke up Kaoru. "You just need to figure out the patterns for the end of the piece?"   
  
"Yep."  
  
Kaoru moved closer to the synthesizer. Suguru looked at him curiously. "May I?" Kaoru motioned to the keyboards.  
  
"Of course, Koganei-san." Suguru backed up a bit and allowed Koganei to cover the keys.   
  
Kaoru cracked his knuckles. "Etou na. I've never really played before, so sorry if I mutilate the tones," he apologized sheepishly. "Still, I think, maybe..." His fingers slowly stumbled into a few sighing chords. Suguru listened, speeding up the tempo in his head. He blinked. For the second time that night, his jaw dropped in shock.   
  
"Koganei-san..." he whispered in shock. "That..."  
  
Kaoru grinned up at him, a pointed tooth poking out at the edges of his smile. "Fits the pattern, right?" he said as he finished up the chords.   
  
"Pattern?" Suguru managed to say, nearly speechless. Kaoru had found, in the matter of minutes, the missing arrangement he struggled to form for the last two weeks. And he had been utterly unaware what notes were half an hour ago.   
  
Kaoru grinned embarrassedly and splayed his fingers in a "V." "I'm really good with puzzles, transformers, and stuff, 'niichan," he informed him. "I'm no good with making music like you, but I can see the patterns you've made. I just pieced the next set in the pattern together." He paused, sheepish. "It works?"  
  
Suguru grabbed a few clean sheets of lined paper and a pen. Playing back the tones from memory, he quickly began to scrawl them down, altering them slightly to interlock with the existing body of music. He sat back down on his bed. "It's perfect," he breathed, examining the melodies. "You are excellent, Koganei-san... do you have any interest in music?"  
  
"Yeah!" Kaoru grinned, pleased with himself. "Eh? Music? Anou... More in fighting, kinda..." he coughed, scuffing a sneaker against the wooden planks of the floor. "I'm going to register for a new junior high tomorrow. Just transferred into this area."  
  
"Really?" Suguru set down the papers on a nightstand next to his bed. He moved his digital alarm clock over the papers to prevent them from slipping onto the floor. "I appreciate your help, but fighting is not the best way to settle things most of the time..."  
  
"Aa," Kaoru agreed, tapping some of the keys on the synthesizer. The white kerchief around his right wrist seemed to glow under the room's bright lights. "I don't mean brawling or general fighting."  
  
"Oh?"  
  
Kaoru grinned at him. "Never mind, 'niichan." Kaoru glanced at the quiet room and hesitated. "You live by yourself, 'niichan?" he asked, softly.   
  
Suguru sprawled on his covers. Sleep whispered softly in his head, entwined with the quiet silence that Suguru kept within the center of his mind. "Yeah, I do. I'm an orphan... no legal guardian. Since I'm very self-efficient, they allowed it." Suguru lips flickered in a wry smile. "With help from my relatives that is."  
  
"Oh," said Kaoru quietly. He did not inquire further. "Mikagami-niichan and I are too."   
  
"I'm sorry to hear that," murmured Suguru. "Do you have any relatives?"  
  
"Saa. I don't know," Kaoru said, plopping down on a chair. "All I remember is the orphanage..." His topaz eyes hazed in bleak dreaminess. "And then... him..."  
  
"Him?" Suguru asked, disturbed at the paradoxical ecstasy and jadedness lurking in the depths of Koganei's eyes.   
  
"Doesn't matter." Kaoru's expression brightened like a thousand-watt lamp as he grinned cheekily at Suguru. "I met Recca-niichan and the others recently. It's great being with them. I was around this area looking for open places to stay, but there don't seem to be any. So I'll be rooming with Recca-niichan at his house, I guess."   
  
"I see," Suguru smiled, letting Koganei's change of subject slip unchallenged. "It's very nice to have people care about you so much." Suguru closed his eyes. "Nakano-san cares a lot about Shindou-san. And vice versa, but it's not as strong with Shindou-san since he has a lover now."  
  
"You sound kinda down, 'niichan. Don't you have a friend or relative that cares about you?" Kaoru asked, leaning his chin against the back of his chair.  
  
"I don't have any friends. Don't really speak much with my relatives either," said Suguru. His expression was blank and indifferent. "No one cares about me like that."  
  
"That's really sad, 'niichan," Kaoru finally said, after an awkward pause. (He's like Mikagami-niichan from before...) He looked at his hands. "Hey," he said brightly, looking back up, "If you let me, I'll care about you like that, 'niichan. I'd love to be your friend!"  
  
Suguru started, forcing open his tired eyes to stare unbelieving at Koganei.  
  
"Erm, you... don't want me too?" Kaoru said softly, depression crossing his face. "Kind of stupid, isn't it? You've only met me twice and was only awake once..." He ruffled his spiky, chestnut hair embarrassedly. "Sorry, 'nii--"  
  
"No one's ever said they wanted to be my friend like that," said Suguru quietly. His dark brown eyes regarded Koganei with disconcerting sharpness. "I..." His eyes softened to a liquid chocolate brown. "I would like that, Koganei-san."  
  
"If we're going to be friends, leave off the 'san,' damnit," Kaoru winked. "I still haven't gotten your name, 'niichan..."  
  
Suguru looked abashed through his sleepiness. "My apologies, it completely slipped my mind." Suguru felt himself talking from a great distance away. Warm, comforting silence blanketed his awareness. "I'm Suguru Fujisaki, Kaoru-kun. It's a pleasure to meet you."  
  
"Suguru-niichan, huh?" Kaoru memorized the name. "Great to meet you too." Kaoru glanced quickly at the clock. It was really late, early morning actually. "Uhmm... I guess I better get going, ne?" There was no response. "Suguru-niichan?" Kaoru worriedly looked at the bed. Suguru was still, face slack in relaxed repose. Kaoru caught the slight motions of his side as he breathed.   
  
"Man, oh man," Kaoru smiled amusedly. "Can't blame the guy. He's had a long day."  
  
Suguru was sound asleep.   
  
  
  
He regained consciousness slowly, wading out of sleep like a walker moving out of quicksand. The still, heavy silence that nearly always permeated his room greeted him noiselessly as the diffused rays of sunlight sliding in from his bedroom windows.   
  
Groaning, Suguru slowly pulled himself up into a sitting position, feeling every inch of his bruised muscles ache in protest. At least his head didn't hurt anymore. He absently combed a hand through his mussed, fine, raven hair and reached for his digital clock on his nightstand. It was 6:28 PM. He'd been out for nearly fifteen hours.   
  
Shaking his head, feeling lucky that there was no work today, Suguru replaced his clock back in its place on his nightstand, over a bunch of papers. He stretched slowly, trying to work out the kinks in his shoulders, and slid out of bed.   
  
Glancing down at himself, he realized he was still wearing the same clothes from yesterday. Suguru made a face and started to head for one of his dressers. As he moved, he tried to jump-start his thinking again. (Why didn't I change last night anyway?) he wondered groggily, opening a drawer and pulling out a white T-shirt. (Oh wait, Koganei was here... Koganei? Why do I feel this sore anyway?) As he hunted for a pair of jeans in another drawer, pieces of last night's events trickled back to him. Setting his change of clothing on the dresser, he grimaced slightly. (Ah, I remember now. I'm going to have to take off the bandages before I shower.) Suguru flexed his arm. (It shouldn't be too much of a problem. I can patch myself now.)  
  
He glanced around and spotted his bag flung across a table. Thanks to Kaoru, he still had it. His coat, on the other hand, had been shredded and abandoned when he evaded the gang members. Oh well.   
  
Suguru carefully pulled off his patterned sweatshirt and looked at himself in the mirror. His skin was peppered with bruises, scrapes, and long cuts. He looked exactly like... a mugging victim. Suguru mentally groaned. At least he didn't have bruises marring his throat and face. Those he couldn't hide. He would just have to stick with long sleeves and pants for a while. If he were lucky, he would just have to cover them up for three days or so. They should start healing by then.   
  
He glanced around the room curiously and shrugged. Kaoru must have left hours ago. Suguru felt a twinge of guilt for being such a bad host. Well, he hadn't been at his best last night, so he hoped it was excusable. He unhooked his jeans and slid out of them. He sighed, noting the untended scrapes along his shins.   
  
Carefully peeling off the bandages Kaoru sealed on his skin yesterday, Suguru tossed the wrappings on the table, grabbed his change of clothes, and headed toward the bathroom.   
  
Slipping out of his boxers, Suguru opened the glass door of the shower stall. He turned the knobs to run the water and set his clothes on a rack against the wall. Then he finally slid into the shower with a sigh and let the warming water pour over him. The stinging contact of water on his abused skin was painful, but the pain meant that he was alive. He welcomed it.   
Bending down, he picked up a bottle and poured some shampoo into his hands. Massaging the thick liquid into his hair, he set down the bottle and reached for a bar of soap. He rubbed the cleansing agent against his skin carefully and ducked under the hot stream of water to wash off.   
  
Fifteen minutes later, he stepped out of the shower, soaking wet. Brushing wet strands of hair out of his eyes, Suguru ignored the misting steam wafting around him and felt around for a towel. He grabbed a large fluffy bath towel and dried himself off. The dark emerald of the towel accented his pale skin and made it seem to glow. Bruises and scrapes set aside, Suguru's pale, lithe form definitely belonged to, as a pervert would say, a "pretty boy's."   
  
Suguru picked up a smaller towel and dried off his hair. (Since it's too late to stop by the studio, I wonder what I should do this evening...) he mused as he got his change of underwear from the clothes on the rack and started to slide it on. As the elastic waistband went over his hips, Suguru suddenly realized that he should rebandage himself before donning his long-sleeved T-shirt and jeans.   
  
He absently draped the smaller towel around his shoulders as he replaced the large towel on its rack. Scooping up his change of clothing, he made a mental note to place his soiled clothing in the laundry. Then he padded back out into his bedroom, clad only in boxers.   
  
If he remembered correctly, Kaoru had left the first-aid kit sitting on his designing table last night. He scanned across his room.   
  
Sure enough, the white kit was sitting on the polished surface of his desk. As he walked over to it, Suguru realized there was a note taped to its lid. Setting his clothing on a chair, Suguru leaned over and grabbed the note. He blinked. It was from Kaoru.   
  
  
  
  
  
Morning, Suguru-niichan!  
You were really tired last night, so you passed out before I left. ^^; I tucked you in before I left, hope you don't mind. ^^v Anyway, I gotta run. Need to set things up and crash at Recca-niichan's house. If you need to find me, I'll be at the Hanabishi house. I can't really remember the address right now... ^^; They make fireworks, if that helps. ^^  
Anyway, I'll stop by again soon! ^^v Peace~  
  
-Kaoru  
  
  
  
  
  
A chibi version of Kaoru's face, with a hand held in a "V" was scribbled next to his name.   
  
Suguru blinked, a genuine smile crossing his features. "What a strange person," he whispered. He placed the note on the table and lifted up the first-aid kit.   
  
As he finished patching himself back up, Suguru settled down to think. (I need to be eighteen for a car license, but considering the last couple of days, getting my own vehicle may be better than walking.) Suguru absently pulled his long-sleeved shirt over his head. (Maybe not a car, but at least a motorcycle. Something like what Hiroshi rides. I think I'm legit for a motorcycle license, although I don't see any way I can get a license immediately... unless I ask K. That American can do _anything_.) Suguru sweatdropped at the memory of K's characteristic arsenal. (He would get me a license if I ask... I'll deal with that tomorrow. Don't know much about driving though... Who should I ask about it? How do I obtain a legal license for a car and motorcycle anyway?) Cleaning up the rolls of band-aids and tubes, Suguru pursed his lips. There was his uncle... despite what some of his relatives said, Uncle Fujiwara was a killer driver. Suguru pulled on his black jeans. (He has to be, if he drives like some of my relatives say he does. He's still alive. Unlike...) Suguru stopped his thoughts. There wasn't any need to think about that. (Alright. I guess I'll be giving uncle a call.)  
  
He rummaged around on his desk for his address book.   
  
  
  
A lanky man in his forties lumbered over to the ringing telephone on the wall. He unhooked the receiver slowly. "Hello? Fujiwara's Tofu Shop."   
  
"Uncle Fujiwara?" inquired a soft voice. "This is Suguru Fujisaki. How have you been?"   
  
Bunta Fujiwara started in surprise. "Suguru-kun!" he greeted heartily. "I haven't heard from you since... the funeral. I'm fine. How are you doing?"  
  
"I'm all right. Thank you for asking... Umm, how is Takumi-san?"  
  
"The kid hardly deserves the 'san,' nephew," smiled Bunta. "I'm teaching him the ropes. He's doing okay."  
  
"That's great to hear."  
  
Bunta lipped the cigarette he was smoking and shifted the receiver a bit closer to his ear. "So, to what do I owe the pleasure of this call?"  
  
"I'm very sorry to trouble you," murmured Suguru, embarrassment plain in his voice.  
  
"It's no problem. You are my nephew, Suguru-kun," said Bunta. "My wife's family is my family."   
  
"Thank you, uncle," said Suguru gratefully. "I was wondering about how to obtain a license?"   
  
"A license? You're only sixteen, aren't you?" Bunta scratched his cheek.  
  
"Well, yes, but I've had some problems lately with walking..." Suguru's voice faltered. "So, I was, uh--"  
  
"I see." Bunta got the picture. His nephew was thinking about driving illegally... which didn't really bother him, considering how he made Takumi start when he was in junior high. "Well, as long as you're careful. My explanation for getting a license is a little long to say over the phone. Could you come down to Akina right now? It'd be wonderful to see you."   
  
  
"Would it be alright?"  
  
"Of course it would. Takumi probably forgot all about you. Should kick him a few times to remember." Bunta was slightly surprised at himself. He normally didn't speak so much. Then again, he almost never heard from his wife's family.  
  
"Thank you, uncle." Suguru's voice was warm. "I shall try to come over then."  
  
"I'll be expecting you."  
  
"Yes. See you later then."  
  
"Later, Suguru-kun." Bunta hung up the phone.   
  
  
  
Hiroshi shook his head, trying to rid himself of the sleepiness clouding his senses. It had been a long night with Shuichi over. "Hello?" he mumbled groggily into the phone. "This is Hiro."  
  
"Nakano-san?"  
  
"Fujisaki-kun?" Hiro blinked, more awake. It was highly unusual to get a call from the third member of the band. In fact, this was probably the first time he ever got a phone call from Suguru. "What's up?"  
  
"Are you free at the moment?"  
  
"Yep." Hiro stifled a yawn. "Shuichi went back over to the hospital to visit Yuki. He's probably going to stay there."  
  
"How is Yuki-san? I hope he's doing well?"  
  
"Yeah, he's fine. Doctor says it was stress," Hiroshi's voice was vaguely amused. "Shuichi is quite a handful. Mm, you don't sound too worried, Fujisaki-kun."  
  
"It wasn't a total surprise to me," Suguru admitted. "Everything went smoothly last night?"  
  
"Well, there were some bad moments. Shuichi felt rejected and stayed over at my place last night."  
  
"I see... How are you feeling?"  
  
"Kinda sleepy, but pretty good. What was it that you wanted?" Hiroshi shifted the receiver as he rubbed at his eyes.   
  
"Anou... Could you give me a ride down to another prefecture?" Suguru asked. "It's okay if you can't."  
  
"Nah, no problem. Sure I can. Which prefecture?" Suguru asking for help... Hiro wondered if it was snowing in hell at the moment. This was a rare occasion.  
  
"Gunma, it's part of the Kanto-Heiya area... it's around two-hour drive from here, I think."  
  
"Mmm... okay. Wouldn't it be faster by train?"  
  
"Probably, but I was hoping I could get someone to come with me... Lately I've been having extremely bad luck when I travel alone. I think riding on your bike offers more mobility anyway."   
  
"Oh, cool," Hiro smiled. "Do you want me to pick you up? Who are we visiting?"  
  
"Yes, please. My uncle Fujiwara."  
  
Hiroshi gave a low whistle. "Someone else related to Tohma?"   
  
"Actually, no. My mother was Tohma's father's sister. Uncle Fujiwara is my father's sister's husband," explained Suguru. "He's not related to Tohma-san, or me for the matter, but his son is my cousin and Tohma-san's second cousin."   
  
"Ah. Where do you live? I'll pick you up right now."  
  
Suguru quickly rattled off a set of directions.   
  
"Cool. You're pretty close to my apartment actually," Hiroshi commented idly. "I'll be there in ten minutes."  
  
"Thank you, Nakano-san."  
  
"No problem."  
  
  
  
A tall, rangy brunette leaned against the wall, watching the outside of the building curiously. He tugged his overshadowing baseball cap lower on his forehead as he smiled cheerfully, fangs peeking from the edges of his grinning, full lips. He didn't seem very imposing as he was decked out in oversized, baggy shorts, an oversized T-shirt, and a padded vest. The long, white bundle leaning on the wall beside him was more ominous than he was. In fact, the young man boosted fine, elfin looks, despite the concealment of his eyes. His long hair was elegantly twisted into three braids that trailed in swaying lengths down his lean back.   
  
He watched a long-haired brunette pull up his motorcycle along the apartment complex and wait. Shortly after he arrived, a young, raven-haired teen walked out and greeted him.  
  
"You said Gunma, Fujisaki-kun. Which area?" asked the brunette.  
  
"Akina. My uncle owns a shop called Fujiwara's Tofu Shop over there. That's pretty much in the lower area, Nakano-san," answered Fujisaki. He detailed some more directions.  
  
The man leaning against the wall watched Fujisaki mount Nakano's motorcycle and fasten on a helmet. The two sped off.   
  
"Well, well," drawled the man in an easy Kansai accent. "Fujiwara's Tofu Shop, hmm? Kid ain't part of Uruha's interests, but anyone who attracts Koganei's attention is worth checking out in my book." Smiling, the brunette grabbed the bundle beside him and went to look for a payphone to call a taxi.   
  
  
  
Bunta was leaning against the wall, finishing up a cigarette when he heard the distinctive rev of a motorcycle pulling up near the front of his shop. Though his heavy lidded eyes appeared closed, he managed to convey a sense of blinking. It had only been twenty minutes since Takumi had gone off to race with the new circuit engine in the 86. At Small Mountain Road no less, according to Yuichi, who had called him ten minutes ago. In addition to that, he didn't know anyone who drove a motorcycle. Curious, he ducked under the cloth separating his living quarters with the shop and went to the front door to see who it was.   
  
Two riders were dismounting from a fairly excellent model of machinery. The passenger took off his helmet as the rider adjusted his motorcycle into a full rest. Though he hadn't seen him for three years, Bunta recognized the revealed face of the passenger.  
  
Suguru Fujisaki.   
  
  
  
"Good evening, uncle." Suguru bowed slightly, polite. "This is my co-worker, Nakano-san. Nakano-san, this is my uncle, Fujiwara."   
  
Hiroshi stared. Suguru's uncle looked nothing like Suguru or Tohma. He couldn't find a resemblance. Even though he was thirty, Tohma still looked like he was in his late teens. Fujiwara was tall and marked with age. Lines creased his face, but unlike what Hiroshi normally associated with wrinkles, Fujiwara's form was rangy and spry.   
  
"..." Bunta examined the guitarist curiously. Boosting silky, long, auburn hair, the man was pretty. Though his face was distinctly masculine, it had a soft touch of femininity to it. Hiro had long-lashed, dark sienna eyes and supple lips. The black leather jacket, white cotton T-shirt, and tight blue jeans were simple, but Nakano somehow made them sensuous. The way Nakano had dismounted and parked his bike indicated that he was a good driver, but he wasn't near racer qualifications. Bunta nodded at Nakano as he finished his assessment. "Bunta Fujiwara. Nice to meet you."  
  
Slightly embarrassed for staring at Suguru's uncle, Hiroshi looked down and nodded his head. "Hiroshi Nakano, sir. It's nice to meet you."   
  
"..." Bunta withdrew his burned out cigarette from his mouth and tossed the butt on the ground. Grinding it beneath his foot, he started to reach for a new smoke when Suguru's soft, disapproving voice interrupted him.  
  
"You're still smoking, uncle? It's bad for your health," Suguru lightly chided. Bunta blinked and stopped reaching.  
  
"You worry too much Suguru-kun," he said, a smile in his voice. He turned and started to languidly walk back into the shop. He stopped and turned his head. "Come on, you two."  
  
"Aa." Suguru looked at Hiroshi. The brunette scratched his head and glanced back at Suguru.  
  
"Um... Your uncle doesn't talk much, does he?"   
  
  
  
They really had to see this. It was a must.  
  
The spiky-haired blonde glanced out his yellow FD's side window to see the softly shining white Savanna driving quickly beside him. He looked up in his rearview mirror to check if the orange Silvia was following behind. It was.   
  
Thanks to Kenta's sources, he and his brother would get to see the battle between the two 86s. Takumi was a terrifying opponent with only a normal engine. Now that he was racing with that new engine... he doubted if he could beat the Trueno driver if they were to race again. Though he was proud of his status as Akagi Resuns number two driver, he wasn't stupid. He wasn't as smart as his brother, Ryousuke, but he knew when he couldn't win.   
  
Keisuke shifted his eyes back toward the road and grinned in anticipation. Who was going to win? That turbo outfitted Levin... or the Trueno of Akina?  
  
  
  
"..."  
  
"That's a really interesting way of getting a car license," Hiroshi said finally, eyes wide. He looked next to him, at Suguru's pale face.  
  
"You... you really get your license that way, uncle?" he asked shakily. Suguru gripped his teacup a bit tighter, anxious.   
  
Bunta calmly took a sip of his tea.  
  
"Well," said Hiroshi, putting his cup on the coffee table. They were sitting in the living room. "I don't remember getting my license that way, if that helps."  
  
Bunta nodded. "My way is just the simple way. Though if you wanted to know the regular way of getting a permit, why didn't you ask your friend?"  
  
"Eh? Oh, I..." Suguru flushed. "I... wasn't sure if..." He glanced at a curious Hiroshi. "We aren't really good friends," he finally said. "And I thought I should ask more about driving from you since I remember that you are very good at it."  
  
"... I see," said Bunta. (He's still extremely introverted, isn't he? He was always a quiet kid... rather like Takumi in that way I guess. But even Takumi, at least, has several good friends.)   
  
"Exactly what car are you planning to get, Fujisaki-kun?" asked Hiroshi with interest. Shuichi never expressed any interest in learning how to drive a vehicle. He hadn't known that Suguru did. It was rather early for him though, considering he was two years away... wait.  
  
"Actually..." The blush on Suguru's cheeks darkened. "I wanted to get a... motorcycle..." he finished in a whisper.  
  
"..."  
  
"...You really should consult your friend then," said Bunta. "I admit I don't know too much about motorcycles."   
  
"A motorcycle license, Fujisaki-kun? Getting one of those is different from getting a car license," Hiroshi said mildly. "For one thing you don't need to be eighteen. You can legally obtain a motorcycle license at sixteen... when do you want yours?"  
  
"Ah..." Suguru flushed. "Within the next day or two, hopefully."  
  
Hiroshi frowned slightly. "What kind of license do you want? Upper motorcycle class or lower motorcycle class?"  
  
"Is there a difference?" Suguru inquired.  
  
"You can't drive an upper class motorcycle with a lower class license, but you can drive a lower class with an upper class license," Hiroshi explained. "An upper class motorcycle would be a bike like mine."  
  
"Oh... an upper class license then."  
  
"You need to take an upper and lower class test. It'd take more than a few days, because there's a _lot_ of tests you need to pass. Can you wait?"  
  
"I would prefer not to..." Suguru said softly. "I'm fairly sure I can pass all the tests easily." Suguru coughed lightly. "I'm sure if I ask K-san, he will get the license to me within a day or two..." he mumbled. "So, I'll be asking him about that tomorrow."  
  
Hiroshi sweatdropped. Their manager made him nervous. It was dangerous to carry weapons because having them meant one was going to use them; K... definitely used them. "That's..." Hiroshi paused, thinking about the various illegal incidents he caused. "Well, you're responsible enough. Be careful though, Fujisaki-kun."  
  
Suguru nodded. "Of course, Nakano-san."  
  
Hiroshi smiled at him. "You could've told me, I won't automatically bite you." Hiroshi hesitated. "We're not close," he admitted. "But trust Shuichi and me a little. We're good for it. Anyway, I'll give you my handbook. What kind of motorcycle can you get, pricewise?"  
  
"Umm... I don't know that much about motorcycles... could you possibly recommend something to me, Nakano-san?"  
  
  
"Sure. What's your price range?"  
  
Suguru blinked and sipped at his tea. "What is the normal cost for a motorcycle, Nakano-san?" he inquired.  
  
Hiroshi's reply was cut off by Bunta's soft snort. "Don't worry about the cost, Nakano. Suguru-kun can cover it, no problem," he informed. "With his income..."  
  
"Oh?" Hiroshi looked back at Suguru curiously. "Is that true?"  
  
Suguru looked puzzled. "Well, before I joined up with Bad Luck, I was working with music composition and performance. My average income per month is a combination from both work and my parents' life insurance. It was around three hundred ninety thousand yen. Sometimes it rose or fell depending on the number of song pieces I was asked to write. I have been taking a break from composing though, since I have been trying to adjust to Bad Luck."  
  
"...my god." Hiroshi's jaw dropped. "Okay, money isn't an issue then."  
  
Bunta smirked. "Suguru-kun's family is pretty well off. Put that in addition to the fact that Suguru-kun composes music like few other people can..."  
  
"I see you point. Well," Hiroshi glanced at Suguru's frame. "I'll direct you to a dealer. Her name is Yumiko Himemiya; she's very good. She'll pick out something for you-- Fujisaki-kun?" Hiroshi looked at Suguru's frozen face worriedly.  
  
"No, nothing... that sounds great." Suguru shook himself out of his shock. He hadn't expected to hear that name... "Thank you, Nakano-san."   
  
"You know Yumiko-san?"   
  
Suguru's lips parted but no word managed to pass through his throat.  
  
"..." Bunta looked away. "Yumiko is his mother's name. She passed away a long time ago. Odd coincidence, that's all."   
  
"O... oh. I'm sorry... Would it help if I directed you to another dealer?" asked Hiroshi awkwardly, flushing slightly from his blunder.  
  
"No, it's all right," smiled Suguru. "It just caught me by surprise, that's all. I don't really remember my mother. I mainly remember my father... he passed away three years ago."  
  
"...I'm sorry to hear that," offered Hiroshi awkwardly.   
  
"..."  
  
"Uncle Bunta? Where is Takumi-san?" asked Suguru, trying to lighten the heavy silence.   
  
"Hmm? That kid? He's out for a race." Bunta's fingers twitched as he stopped himself from reaching for a new cigarette. "Interested in watching him drive?"  
  
"Race?" asked Hiroshi and Suguru. They looked at each other.   
  
"Sure, why not," shrugged Hiroshi. "Where is he racing? Would we make it in time?"  
  
"It's at a place called Small Mountain Road," said Bunta. "It's street racing, not circuit racing. It should be pretty good to see, even though Takumi is nowhere as good as I am. I told him to win, after all. If you leave now, you'll get to see it."   
  
"I'm afraid I'm unfamiliar with the area," admitted Hiroshi. "Could you give me some directions?" He swept a hand behind his ear, tucking away the stray locks of auburn hair obscuring his face.   
  
"Sure. The road's fairly narrow though, so you'll have to stand at a certain spot."   
  
As Suguru watched his uncle gave Hiroshi directions, he slowly digested the information he learned from the past half-hour. Processing it quickly, he looked back up at his uncle and band member.   
  
He wondered what Takumi would look like. He hadn't seen his cousin since the funeral three years ago.  
  
  
  
Keisuke was sweating and he wasn't even the one driving either of the two cars racing along the treacherous mountain road. The race between Wataru and Takumi was nerve-racking.   
  
"What round is this, aniki?" Keisuke asked. He shifted his position against the guardrail of a set of concrete steps. He had been so absorbed in catching the brief flashes of the speeding 86s that he had neglected to count the number of times he had seen them.   
  
"Looks like their fourth round," answered the elder Takahashi.  
  
Kenta nodded. "They are good," he whispered, grudgingly admitting his admiration. "I probably would've stopped by now."  
  
"Heh," Keisuke grinned at his teammate. "Don't worry, Kenta. You're still learning, right? You'll get there." Keisuke paused a moment. (Damn, I just encouraged Kenta.) Not that he minded encouraging his teammates, but if Kenta was somewhat... And he kept making puppy eyes at him...  
  
"Keisuke-san~" Kenta breathed, eyes shining. (He complimented me?)  
  
(Gack... oh well.) Keisuke threw a quick glare at his brother. Ryousuke had adroitly hidden the smirk that flashed across his lips, but Keisuke had caught it. (Thank god Kenta doesn't know I'm bi, or else... Well, he is kind of cute, but he already sticks around me like a shadow. That isn't healthy for a relationship.) Keisuke blinked as saw his brother blink and turn. His ears caught the sound of soft footsteps a second later.  
  
"Excuse me, have you seen someone named Takumi Fujiwara around here?"  
  
  
  
It had taken a while before Hiroshi finally figured out the roads corresponding to Suguru's uncle's instructions. After that, Hiroshi found himself wasting another good part of an hour as he tried to figure out how to find the place on a road map. Eventually, after much skilled and practiced repression of frustration, he worked out the route. "Here we are. This is the place where Fujiwara-san told us to watch." Hiroshi braked his bike.   
  
"The road is too narrow, right?" Suguru asked, getting off.   
  
"Yeah," affirmed Hiroshi. "That's what he said. This is the only area we can safely watch from." Expertly dismounting, Hiro pulled his helmet off and slung it on a handle of his motorcycle.   
  
Suguru pulled his helmet off of his head and handed it to Hiroshi. He hesitated, running a hand through slightly sweat-soaked hair. "How will we recognize Takumi-san?" he asked softly. "What if he has already finished racing?"  
  
Hiroshi shrugged as he grasped the second helmet from Suguru and latched it onto the bike handle, next to his. "I don't know. Maybe we can ask someone. Such a race would have spectators, right?" Hair swaying as he turned, Hiroshi scanned the seemingly deserted area. His dark gold-brown eyes caught on three long forms standing against the guardrail at the bottom of the steps near them. "Hey, Suguru." Hiroshi motioned his hand.  
  
Suguru's eyes followed the direction of Hiroshi's gesture. Three young men were loosely gathered at the bottom of the long stairway leading to the road's sidewalk. All were speaking softly to each other, eyes intent on the road. Two were dark-haired while the last man was a blonde. The blond had his hair fashionably spiked and wore a storm-gray denim jacket with a pair of pure white, multi-pocketed khakis. Hands deep in the pockets of his jacket, he was addressing the brunette next to him a question in a husky low tenor. The brunette, who was wearing a white turtleneck, along with a matching set of a dark gray conservative jacket and pants, replied in a calm, professional voice. The last man injected a comment quietly, shaking his head, which made his black hair gleam silver in the weak streetlights. He seemed to be the youngest of the three. Suguru noted his pale gold sweatshirt and steel-gray jeans quickly before returning his eyes back to Hiroshi.   
  
Hiroshi raised an eyebrow, crossing his arms in front of his chest. He shrugged. "You want to go down and ask?"  
  
"Yeah." Suguru nodded. Straightening his rumpled T-shirt nervously, he started for the stairway. Hiroshi followed him down. As they neared the three at the bottom, the brunette, hearing their footsteps, blinked. Suguru froze, halting suddenly. Hiroshi stopped for a split second as well, puzzled over his friend's hesitancy. Then he realized that Suguru had suddenly developed a case of sudden shyness.   
  
(Oh great... Well, cover for him,) Hiroshi rationalized. He shouldered slightly in front of his friend and nodded politely at the brunette.   
  
"Excuse me," Hiroshi asked quietly, "Have you seen someone named Takumi Fujiwara around here?" The other two men, noting their companion's diverted attention, turned towards Hiroshi and Suguru as well.   
  
"Fujiwara?" queried the blonde. "He's racing with Akiyama on the road right now." He jerked a thumb at the empty stretch of road. "What do you want with him?" Dark blue eyes narrowed suspiciously.   
  
"We heard he was racing," Suguru's quiet, melodious voice said from behind Hiroshi. Overcoming his awkwardness, he trailed Hiroshi, stepping down the last few steps to join the other men. "Someone told us to watch." He smiled a little self-consciously. "Takumi-san is still racing?"  
  
Blinking the blonde turned to brunette and mouthed 'takumi-SAN?' to him as the black-haired young man answered. "Yeah. He and Akiyama have been going at it for a while. They should be driving past again in a few minutes."  
  
"I see, thank you." Suguru nodded politely. He was about to distance himself from the group when Hiroshi's inquisitive voice stopped him.  
  
"Hey, uh, what's the racing setup for this anyway?" Hiroshi asked curiously.   
  
The brunette raised an eyebrow. "It's a endurance race. They're competing to see who can keep up driving along this course. The first to falter or fall behind loses."   
  
"Ah. Cool." Hiroshi nodded amiably and moved to follow Suguru a few feet away from the group. "Thanks."  
  
"No problem," said the brunette, looking after them curiously.   
  
  
  
('Takumi-SAN'?) Keisuke thought incredulously. (I never heard someone call Fujiwara like that before.) Reasonably sure that the two were far enough to not hear him if he spoke quietly, he leaned towards his older brother. "What do you make of them, aniki? Street racers?"  
  
Ryousuke slid cool, deep blue eyes over toward his younger brother. "Not enough conversation to tell, but I'm guessing no. The younger kid, he looks like he's only fourteen. The older guy might be a racer, but he doesn't look like it..."  
  
Keisuke had to agree-- and restrain his brain from jumping into the gutter. The taller of the two was HOT. He was almost too pretty for Keisuke's taste, but the feminine details of the man's face were tempered with a keen, assertive masculinity that negated a girlish impression. Kenta's voice interrupted his musing assertion of the pretty man.  
  
"Hey, here they come again!"  
  
As they turned to view the two battling 86s again, Keisuke noted the two new arrivals turn to watch the road as well. He wondered what they'd think of the driving display. Their reaction would tell if they were racers or not at any rate.   
  
  
  
Within the Trueno 86, a young blonde focused on his opponent with fathomless steel-blue eyes. His slender hands flickered over his car's controls with adroit ease as he accelerated the gas. The light sheen of sweat on his pale skin caused him to blink slightly.  
  
(Can't lose. Dad told me to win,) he thought distractedly, concentration devoured by controlling the race. He twitched the steering wheel a few centimeters to throw his car in a swerving slide. (But it's more that that this time. Whatever it takes, I want to win.)   
  
A faint smile of wonder crossed his lips and his eyes seemed to shine a pale ice blue. (I didn't know I would want to win so much.) An exuberant light hardened his eyes and his smile stretched to a grin of enjoyment.   
  
(...I want to win.)   
  
  
  
Two sets of wide, stunned eyes stared fixedly at the empty space where the twin cars stormed through. The sheer speed of the cars as well as the snake-like maneuvering on such an ill constructed and narrow road at night was completely insane.   
  
"...Fujisaki-kun."  
  
"Yes, Nakano-san?"  
  
"You're going to take the regular method of obtaining a permit right?"  
  
"I..." Suguru's voice was shaky. "Think so." Evidently Takumi's driving did not shock only Hiroshi.   
  
"That's good to hear. After seeing your cousin drive, I'm worried about your uncle's advice."  
  
"Aa." There was a brief silence. Feeling odd, Hiroshi shook himself and glanced around. He identified the reason of his uneasiness as he found the other three men staring at them.   
  
"Something wrong?" asked Hiroshi, raising an eyebrow.   
  
"...cousin?" inquired the tall brunette wearing the white turtleneck.   
  
Suguru blinked, turning his eyes away from the empty stretch of road. "Ah, yes. I'm Takumi-san's cousin from Tokyo."   
  
"..."  
  
"Um..." Suguru shifted uneasily from the slack-jawed stares, unconsciously edging closer to Hiro. He blinked. "Is it something I said?"   
  
"You're Takumi Fujiwara's cousin?!" blurted the black-haired man unbelievingly. "That guy actually has relatives? Are you serious?!" State of shock broken, the blonde unceremoniously brained the raven-haired man with a fist.   
  
"Oi, Kenta! That is rude!" he scolded. Kenta rubbed at his head and gave the blond a wounded, abashed look.   
  
"Quite," agreed the brunette, recovering somewhat from his shock. He looked at Suguru and Hiroshi with new, deeply fascinated eyes. "You're his cousin...?"  
  
"Suguru Fujisaki," answered Suguru. "Are you guys friends of his?"  
  
"Fujisaki..." mulled the brunette. "Well, not really. More like a few people who appreciate his driving skill." He dropped his gaze to Suguru again and courteously held out a hand. "I'm Ryousuke Takahashi. This is my younger brother Keisuke and our co-worker Kenta Nakamura."   
  
Accepting Ryousuke's hand, Suguru inclined his head in acknowledgment. "It is my pleasure to meet you, Takahashi-san and Nakamura-san," he said.  
  
"Urr, yeah. Great to meet you too, Fujisaki-san," faltered Keisuke, awkward with Suguru's politeness. "Just call me Keisuke. You can't call both my brother and me Takahashi, right?" He turned his gaze to the other man, who transfixed his attention. "So... you're Fujiwara's cousin too?"  
  
The long-haired brunette blinked in half-surprise, half amusement. "Nope. I'm Fujisaki-kun's friend, Hiroshi Nakano," he smiled. "Nice to meet you." He offered a hand to Keisuke, who shook it enthusiastically. The touch of Hiroshi's hand sent a strange thrill racing across his nerves.   
  
Keisuke blinked and shook his head to clear the strange deja vu that assaulted his senses. Funny, he swore he had heard Hiroshi's name somewhere else before...   
  
"You guys came all the way from Tokyo just to see your cousin race?" asked Kenta, unable to contain his curiosity. The dark-skinned young man absently pulled his sweatshirt more over his shoulders, sliding the white T-shirt he wore underneath with it.   
  
"No," answered Suguru. "I wasn't aware Takumi-san raced. Is it a big thing around here?" He smiled awkwardly. "I came for a brief visit to ask my uncle something... dragged my co-worked with me."   
  
Hiroshi shrugged lightly behind Suguru. "I don't mind," he reassured him, lifting a nonchalant eyebrow to refute Suguru's uncertain look. "So quit looking like you blackmailed me, okay?"  
  
Suguru flushed. "Sorry, Nakano-san."  
  
"Fujisaki-san... I would like to ask you a question," said Ryousuke, curiosity in his dark blue eyes.  
  
"Hmm?" Suguru turned to look at the older brunette.   
  
"I always wondered why a driver like Bunta Fujiwara would be a tofu shop owner," mused Ryousuke. "Would you know?"  
  
"Oh. It's because of his wife, my aunt, Tomiko," said Suguru quietly. "She didn't want Uncle Fujiwara to be a circuit driver... and when she was caught in that explosion... well. He lost his inspiration." Suguru turned to look at the empty stretch of broken concrete. "It's a sad thing when you lose something like that. Life doesn't seem to be worth much."   
  
"...I'm sorry to hear that," apologized Ryousuke uncomfortably.   
  
Suguru turned guileless eyes on the older Takahashi brother. "It was hard for Uncle Fujiwara," he reinstated. "But he might have known... my family seems to end in regretful ways." A lost, dreamlike haze flickered in Suguru's dark brown eyes.   
  
Wisely sidestepping from continuing that line of depressing conversation, Keisuke cleared his throat. "Ah... hey, we haven't seen Fujiwara and Akiyama again. They must've finished the race or something."  
  
"So soon?" asked Suguru.  
  
"Not soon. That was their fifth lap," Ryousuke informed Suguru. "Driving hard as they did is fairly trying on the senses, especially on this road. You'll have to try driving on here to know just how much."   
  
"I'll take your word for it," said Hiroshi dryly, glancing warily at the broken, sand-encrusted cement. He twitched at the guardrails. Even from his distant position, they looked weak and wobbly. "This road looks awful. How come the city hasn't tried to renovate it?"   
  
Keisuke grinned. "We aren't complaining. This road is a challenge. Only the skilled can drive this road and not crash." Kenta nodded.  
  
Hiroshi raised an eyebrow. "Cool. So. Takumi-san would've gone home?"  
  
"Probably," answered Ryousuke.   
  
"It's a little late, but do you want to go back to your uncle's place to say hi, Fujisaki-kun?" Hiroshi asked his younger co-worker.   
  
"If it's not a problem for you, Nakano-san," answered Suguru quietly.  
  
Hiroshi rolled his eyes. "Quit being so reserved, damnit. I drove you all the way here, didn't I? Of course it's no problem." He flashed Suguru a wry smile. "Okay, let's go."   
  
"Wait! Uh..." Keisuke blurted, taking a step towards Hiroshi. He shoved his hands into his denim jacket's pockets nervously. "Are you guys going to be hanging around? In the area, I mean."  
  
"Nope," Hiroshi answered. "He glanced at Suguru. "Are you?"  
  
"I don't think so," Suguru answered quietly. "Akina is rather far from Tokyo and I am not close to Uncle Bunta." Suguru conveniently left out he was not close to _anyone_.  
  
"Yeah. I don't know anyone here," Hiroshi elaborated, nodding at Suguru's reply. "And this is way too far from Tokyo to just to drive by and hang around."  
  
"That sucks," Keisuke sighed. "I'd like to know you two better. Takumi's an interesting guy and getting to know his relatives and all would be sort of cool." Keisuke knew he was babbling. Taking interest in strangers wasn't his thing. He could feel his brother and Kenta staring at him in surprise. He admirably tried to cover the flush his brother's speculative gaze invoked. He was _not_ too obvious, was he?  
  
Suguru and Hiroshi, fortunately for Keisuke, did not catch anything out of the ordinary with his interest. "I'm sure you have better things to do than to hang out with me, Keisuke-san," demurred Suguru. "I don't know the first thing about cars."  
  
Hiroshi scratched the back of his head awkwardly. "Likewise. My mechanics is kind of rusty and I don't know much about cars. But hey, I do have time. So if you want to hang out sometimes..." He shrugged amiably and blinked at Suguru's surprised glance. He shrugged again, nonchalantly. "What can I say? It's a change of pace. I get tired of every day's routine sometimes. Kicking back in unfamiliar settings is very stress-relieving," he admitted.   
  
Eyebrow rising, Suguru nodded comprehendingly. Bad Luck and stress went hand in hand like sake and meat or peanut better and jelly. If the guitarist needed to relieve stress, it was only natural he did it in inconspicuous surroundings. Maybe those rumors of a hedonistic guitarist touring the nightclubs had some verisimilitude in them after all...   
  
Despite his heart quickening, Keisuke managed to regulate his voice. "Yeah, that'd be great." Fumbling in his jeans' back pocket, he got out a rumpled notepad. He continued to feel around for a pencil but after a few seconds, he realized he didn't have one with him. As he looked up to ask his brother for something to write with, he bonked his nose with the end of a pen.   
  
"Here," said his brother smoothly. Ryousuke's amused gaze was... Keisuke wasn't sure if it was a good or bad thing. It didn't bode too well for the verbal spars they initiated sometimes. His brother was going to have _such_ ammunition on him right now. Still. When was the last time he went out with a guy? (Was interested in a guy,) Keisuke mentally corrected himself. (Idiot, you don't even know if he's interested in guys! But with looks like those...)  
  
Pushing back his musings, Keisuke grabbed the pen. "Thanks, aniki," he said gratefully to his brother. He uncapped the pen and scribbled his cell and home phone number on a piece of notepad paper and tore it off. He handed it to Hiroshi.  
  
Hiroshi took the paper and folded it before slipping it into his jean pocket. "Thanks. Uh... do you want mine?" he offered.  
  
Suguru smiled slightly in amusement and wondered how the blond would respond. Any one of Bad Luck's fans would kill to be in the position Keisuke was in right now. They adored Hiroshi that much... Wait a second. Why was Keisuke asking Hiroshi to hang out with him anyway-- oh. OH.  
  
Oblivious to the dawning light in Suguru's eyes, Keisuke tilted his head. "Nah, it's okay," he said, folding the notepad and sticking it back into his jeans' pocket. It was not okay. He would really like to get the other man's phone number, but doing it right now, in front of the others, would be too much. Kenta was already eyeing the proceedings with jealous alarm. "Just call me up when you have time."   
  
Hiroshi blinked. "Sure." His lips curved in a blindingly sexy half-smile. Keisuke stopped breathing.  
  
(Oh. My. God.) Keisuke flushed furiously, forcing himself to start breathing again. (I don't believe this. I'm falling like a rock-- this is unlike me. But there's just something about this guy...)  
  
"Ahem. If you want more time alone," said Ryousuke mildly. "Kenta and I can go back first." The elder Takahashi failed to completely conceal the amused smile from his face. Keisuke gave his brother a wide-eyed look, the tips of his ears burning red.  
  
Suguru also had an amused smile playing about his lips as he observed the interaction between the two brothers.   
  
"Huh?" Hiroshi queried in puzzlement. He looked at Suguru, catching the younger musician's amused expression. "Suguru?"  
  
The keyboardist belatedly hid his amusement. "Ahh... are we going yet, Nakano-san?" he asked.   
  
"Oh. Yeah. Sorry about that..." Hiroshi said sheepishly.  
  
"No problem, Nakano-san." Suguru turned to head up the stairs. "It was nice meeting you Takahashi-san, Keisuke-san, Nakamura-san. Bye."  
  
"Yeah, it was nice meeting you guys," Hiroshi echoed easily, nodding at the three. He turned and followed Suguru up the stairs. "Later."  
  
"Bye," Keisuke said, speaking for all three of them. He watched Hiroshi go.  
  
Ryousuke and Kenta watched Keisuke watch Hiroshi leave.   
  
  
  
The moderately worn 86 with "Fujiwara's Tofu Shop" stenciled in black on its sides pulled steadily into the narrow parking space. Its driver parked it and disembarked from his vehicle. Short blond hair swaying as he turned, the driver looked at his 86 thoughtfully. He absently tucked his bare hands into the pockets of his light gray-blue jeans. The white sweatshirt he wore was insufficient to completely ward off the cold of the chill, snowing air. After a moment, as if detecting another's presence, the blond turned to see his father lounging casually outside of their house's front door. He took his hands out of his pockets.  
  
"..."  
  
"..."  
  
The elder man glanced at his son indifferently, slowly lighting a fresh cigarette. He stuck the lit stick in his mouth and inhaled. He exhaled. A mist of smoke lazily curled into a yawn and drifted around his head.  
  
"..."  
  
"..."  
  
"..."  
  
"...Why are you so late?" Bunta finally drawled. "You have only an hour before you hate to make the delivery." Taking a few languid steps, the elder man approached the 86, giving it a cursory glance.  
  
"..." Takumi's eyes briefly followed his father's movements. "I know. I'll be in a deep sleep until then." The young driver started walking toward the front door. "Just wake me up when it's time."  
  
"..." Bunta watched his son pause at the door and grasp the doorknob. "Alright."  
  
  
"..." Takumi began to say something more when his eyes finally caught the motorcycle parked off to the side. "..." He studied the bike for a few long moments before he finally concluded that it was, in fact, parked in front of their house. "...dad?"  
  
"..." Bunta took another slow pull. "...Yes?"  
  
"..." Takumi examined the motorcycle's presence again. "Um..."  
  
"..."  
  
"..."  
  
"Damn," interjected a dry voice. The front door, opened by Hiroshi, swung out, nearly hitting Takumi along the way. Hiroshi glanced at the extremely surprised Takumi. "Conversations at your house must be absolutely _riveting_, man."   
  
"..." Takumi hesitantly studied Hiroshi, who looked at him patiently and waited for the blond to acknowledge him. Takumi drew his eyes away and looked back confusedly at his father. "..."  
  
"Oh... is Takumi-san back?" asked Suguru's light voice. The younger teen manifested behind Hiroshi and peered around the long-haired brunette. "Hi, Takumi-san!"  
  
"..." Takumi scratched the back of his head and looked, again, at his father. "..."  
  
"..."  
  
"..."  
  
"..."  
  
"...um," Takumi finally said, looking back at the two exasperated teens in the doorway of his house. "Hi?"  
  
"Hi," said Hiroshi dryly. He moved away from the doorway so that Takumi could enter the house. "Welcome back." Takumi looked cautiously at him, but did not move from his position in front of the door.  
  
Suguru frowned slightly. "Aren't you two going to come back in--Uncle! You're smoking again!"   
  
"...oops," said Bunta sheepishly, hastily dropping the cigarette. He ground it out beneath a foot. "Hn."  
  
"..." Takumi's eyes widened. He backed away a step from the door. "...'Uncle,' you said?"   
  
"Aa. You probably don't remember me, Takumi-san." Suguru looked a bit embarrassed. "But you attended my father's funeral three years ago."  
  
"...?"  
  
"I'm one of your cousins from Tokyo," Suguru clarified.  
  
"...!!" Takumi looked at his father."  
  
"..."  
  
"..."  
  
"I have cousins?" Takumi eventually asked, surprised. Hiroshi facefaulted.   
  
"Your-- relatives--" he grated out, pulling himself up and regaining his composure. "Really don't like to talk much, do they?"  
  
"I, uh, suppose not," said Suguru, scratching the nap of his neck. He smirked slightly. "Quite a change from Shindou-san's dialogue--excuse me--monologue, isn't it?" He glanced at the falling snow outside.  
  
"Yeah, I'd say," said Hiroshi. "An extreme change." He paused. "Takumi-kun doesn't remember you?"  
  
"Looks like he doesn't," said Suguru easily. "But then I'm an extremely forgettable person." He waved the lapse off. "Takumi-san, Uncle Bunta, it is really cold outside. Please come back inside?"   
  
"..."  
  
"..."  
  
"...okay..." both Fujiwaras finally murmured. They paused. As one, they turned to regard each other thoughtfully. They looked back at the front door... Hiroshi hit his head against the wall.   
  
"For the love of..." Rolling his eyes, he grabbed a startled Takumi's arm and propelled him into the warmer interior of the small house. "I know it's said to do things 'slowly but surely,' but this is a little much," he groused. "Fujiwara-san, you coming?"  
  
Bunta blinked. "..." His brow furrowed slightly. There had been something he was going to say...  
  
"Fujiwara-san?"  
  
"...yeah," answered the elder man, strolling in after them. After he entered the house, Suguru closed the door after him. Bunta looked at his nephew. "Thanks, Suguru-kun."  
  
"No problem," answered Suguru politely. "I'm sorry to still trouble you at such a late hour." Bunta snorted.   
  
"Don't worry about it. We don't get company at all, so your visit is a nice change." Bunta walked into the living room and usurped the sofa on the left. He looked at Hiroshi and Takumi who were also seated around the low coffee table.  
"..."  
  
  
"..."  
  
Hiroshi looked at them with irritation. "Would you two _stop_ that? It's disturbing. Say something."  
  
"Silence bothers you, Nakano-san?" Suguru asked with surprise. The keyboardist flopped down next to Hiroshi on the other sofa.   
  
"Natural silence doesn't bother me," Hiroshi retorted. "It's unnatural silence that does. It doesn't make sense for people to be quiet when they can say something. If they don't have anything to say, then why are they sitting around and staring at each other?" He shrugged. "Do something else."   
  
"..." Takumi looked thoughtful. He glanced at his father. "..."  
  
"..." Hiroshi buried his face in his hands. "Alright, alright, my fault I'm--"  
  
"--I'm sorry," Takumi interjected, scratching his head. "I just... don't have much to say." He attested to that conclusion by ceasing to further comment.   
  
"Okay," Hiroshi said. "Fine. So, how old are you Takumi-san?"  
  
"...Eighteen," the addressed blond said. "Graduating this spring."  
  
"Cool. I'm nineteen," said Hiroshi. "Graduated a while back and got into a band. The rest, as they say, is history."  
  
"..." Takumi considered Hiroshi's words. "...band?"  
  
"Yeah, music band. Your cousin and I are musicians for the same band. We're part of Bad Luck... ever heard of it?" Hiroshi asked.  
  
"...no," Takumi said, scratching his cheek quietly. "Sorry." He hesitated and looked at Suguru. "..."  
  
"Something you want to ask, Takumi-san?" asked Suguru gamely.  
  
"...aa."  
  
"Well?"  
  
"...You look really young to be as old as your friend. How old are you, uh..." Takumi hesitated. He didn't know his cousin's name.  
  
"Suguru," supplied Suguru helpfully. "My co-worker is Hiroshi Nakano. I'm sixteen, Takumi-san."  
  
"...!" Takumi looked thoughtful. "You look really young, Suguru." He looked up with a hint of a tired smile. "But there's nothing wrong with that. You're a musician?"  
  
"Yep, I work with anything, but I mostly stick to the synthesizer."  
  
"That's pretty cool." Takumi stifled a yawn. He was, thanks to the late hour and harrowing race, exhausted. His normally acute senses were mired in a thick fog of fuzziness. Too tired for tact, which he was not good in employing anyway, Takumi glanced at the clock. It was half past three. He looked back at his cousin and his cousin's friend. "I'm sorry, but I'm really tired. I want to take a nap before getting up in forty-five minutes for the delivery..."  
  
"?" Hiroshi glanced at Takumi with interest. (Hey... Takumi kinda reminds me of my older bro.) Hiroshi thought. (Only Yuzzi talks a _lot_ more,) he added, sighing. Hiroshi stretched. He was still, more or less, awake despite the late hour. He wasn't sure how long the state of consciousness would last though.   
  
"Delivery, Takumi-san?" asked Suguru curiously, looking at the clock. "At four AM?"  
  
"Dad's business," explained Takumi sleepily. "We have to deliver tofu to the hotel at four."  
  
"Harsh," said Hiroshi contritely. "Sorry for taking up your time... we better get going anyway. If it gets any later, I'm going to be too sleepy to drive back." He adjusted his leather jacket more comfortably around his shoulders. "Man, I can't believe it's snowing out there," he mumbled.   
  
Takumi hesitated. "Yeah. Uh... maybe... we can talk more next time?"  
  
"I would like to, if the chance ever arises," said Suguru sincerely. "You should get some sleep though. Hiroshi is right, we should be starting back for Tokyo now..."  
  
"You sure you'll be able to get back alright?" asked Bunta, slightly worried. He looked at the two teens. If something happened to his nephew on the way back, his wife's family would be... upset. Not to mention the feelings his guilt would induce.   
  
"I'm not some skilled stuntman," said Hiroshi dryly, "but I can ride sick, drunk, handicapped, half-dead, or stoned if I have to. There shouldn't be another problems as long as I'm awake." He winked.  
  
"...That's very assuring." Bunta's deadpan expression made it impossible to tell if he was joking or not. Hiroshi assumed that he was.   
  
"It wasn't meant to be," he told Bunta wryly. A yawn escaped his throat; Hiroshi blinked. Damn, the weariness from the long hours of driving was sinking in.  
  
Hiroshi's sudden yawn caught Bunta's attention. "Nakano, you drove two hours from Tokyo to Mt. Haruna, spent another two hours driving to and from Chichibu..." Bunta fingered a cigarette absently. He eyed his slightly puzzled nephew and turned his gaze on a mildly chagrined Hiroshi. "I don't think it's wise for you to take another two-hour drive after all that."  
  
"..." Takumi blinked slowly at Bunta. He couldn't figure out what his father was trying to say. He felt extremely sleepy. "Dad?" he inquired, groggily.   
  
Bunta slowly let out a controlled sigh, wishing for a smoke. "Please stay the night, you two."   
  
"..." Suguru opened his mouth to protest, but closed it without a word after looking at Hiroshi. The other teen was visibly exhausted. Suguru could not drive yet, which meant Hiroshi had to drive if they were going back to Tokyo. Suguru could not, and would not, ask Hiroshi to drive if he was too tired. Especially since Hiroshi's exhaustion was a result of helping him out. "If you're sure it's not an inconvenience, Uncle," said Suguru softly. "If it is, we can crash at a motel."  
  
Bunta looked as shocked as his face would allow. "Motel? No. We have a spare guest room down the hall. It's no trouble at all." Bunta inclined his hand slightly in the direction of the room.   
  
Hiroshi blinked and smiled wryly. "Sounds fine to me. Thank you Fujiwara-san, I really appreciate it." He hesitated and stood. "I need to move my bike in a more sheltered place and bring in some gear. Could you show us where the room is before I go outside?"  
  
Bunta looked up at Hiroshi and blinked. He nodded. He slowly rose to his feet and looked at his son. "Go to sleep, you have thirty minutes before I wake you up." Takumi blinked at him and got to his feet. He headed for the stairs. Pausing, he looked back at Hiroshi and Suguru. He inclined his head at them. "Good night."  
  
"See you in the morning, Takumi-san," said Suguru softly. He stood and glanced at his uncle, who was moving out of the living room. "Thank you, uncle."  
  
Bunta tossed a look at his nephew. "Don't mention it," he said gruffly.  
  
  
  
His eyes were gritty and his eyelids were weighed by lead weights. Takumi was positive that some dastardly car had waylaid him at some point and danced on his head.   
  
Oohhh yeah, his head hurt.   
  
Slowly dragging his eyes up, he groggily accepted the filled cup of water from his dad. Thirty minutes of sleep was NOT enough for him to be fully functional. It was better than nothing though.  
  
"Don't spill any."  
  
"Yes, dad."  
  
Takumi gamely tried to focus his eyes as he started the car. It was a good thing he didn't need to be fully awake in order to drive. However, in this state, he couldn't avoid split-second disasters. If Takumi was thinking more clearly, he probably would have been praying nothing would happen. Then again, if he were thinking clearly, he would be more awake and he wouldn't have this problem. As it was, he was an accident waiting to happen.   
  
  
  
"What the hell?" drawled an erstwhile young man with a Kansai accent. He scratched his head just underneath the brim of his baseball cap. "No one's here." He sighed and tilted his vaguely oblong bundle away from him. He stared at the deserted stretch of road on Mt. Akina. He looked at the note crumpled in his hand. He had to switch taxis several times. The taxi he switched to when he got to the Gunma district had known of the Fujiwara Tofu Shop.  
  
/Eh? The Fujiwara Tofu Shop? It's closed at this time of day!/  
  
/Really? When do they open?/  
  
/I'm not sure... why do you want to go there anyway?/  
  
/I'm looking for a young man--/  
  
/Oh? Well, I hear that a young man delivers tofu for the shop around four AM on the Akina route. Want me to drop you off there?/  
  
/That'd be fine. Is there a certain place along the route I should wait?/  
  
/Nah, well, I'll draw you a map of the mountain road when we get there./  
  
/Thank you./  
  
He'd been dropped off roughly thirty minutes ago. After waiting for ten minutes, he decided to start walking along the road. He had seen nothing. The man sighed. He had to remember to bring a watch. He had no idea what time it was.   
  
Why was he doing this anyway? It was sort of a wild goose chase. True he had been ordered to keep an eye on the Hokage activities, but Koganei wasn't even here. "I had time to kill," he muttered himself, squatting toward the right side of the road. "Right." He absently set his bundle on the concrete.  
  
"Maa, I guess I should head back before something important happens," he finally said, standing up.   
  
A low, rumbling roar caught his attention.  
  
"Eh?" He turned.  
  
A car hit him.  
  
  
  
**tbc... maybe. 


End file.
